Somewhere in the Night
by TheMaddnessOfDr.Strangelove
Summary: One-shot sequel to Belonging to the Night. November 1996. Lilith Sternin has a brief encounter with a strange man. Features lyrics to the song, "Somewhere in the Night," as performed by Scott Bakula in "Piano Man" episode of Quantum Leap.


_Quantum Leap__ and all related characters are the property of series creator __Donald Bellisario and __Belisarius Productions in association with Universal Television__. __Frasier__ and all related characters are the property of series creators David Angell, Peter Casey, David Lee, Grub Street Productions, and Paramount Television. This piece of fan fiction was made with love & respect and the author has made no profit from writing it._

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_On the day I walked away  
All the blue rolled into gray  
Now in the dark alone I lay  
Should have stopped  
But I could never ever stay_

November 1996.

The doorbell roused Lilith from a deep, fitful sleep. She had been dreaming. A rare occurrence, when she _did_ dream, the subject matter seldom made sense. They were disjointed and loosey-goosey. One minute she'd be laying in a vat of sour cream, talking to Elvis, the next she'd find herself in a rainbow colored jungle, slaying a bear with a sharpened spork. She often mused that her dreams were so wild and untamed because of a rebellion in her inner consciousness. Her mind, a slave to her strict and mannishly conservativeness, was lashing out like a pubescent child, wanting to break free of a parent's social constraints.

And then there was tonight.

When her dreams blurred the line of realism, messages hid themselves in twisted likenesses and dark landscapes, and they always lingered on her mind well beyond the point where most people couldn't help but forget them. Even then, as she sat up in a thick, glossy sweat, the empty space in a gloomy bedroom her only company, the unusual imagery was already fading. She furrowed her sticky brow and tried to recall it. It was like being amnesic and trying to remember a completely different life, with different memories, and when they finally fall into place, seem foreign and intrusive. Yet, it must be real, and true, because you can evoke tiny bits and pieces that feel right, and you cling to them like a security blanket. The only way Lilith could describe it was by picturing a piece of Swiss cheese. Big holes represented big things, like where she had been and what she had seen during the dream's progression, and tiny holes represented smaller details like the time of day.

_Second chances I won't get  
Wouldn't dare to hope  
And yet, everywhere I turn  
I see your silhouette  
Been so long  
But I never will forget_

She could remember a forest. And an overwhelming sensation of dread in the pit of her stomach, like the feeling of falling, when your stomach tries to work its way into your chest all at once. Separation. She was lost. And the more she walked along, the darker the woods became, and turning back to where she had been before made no difference. She went in deeper no matter what direction she moved in. If only she could find him. Yes. She had been searching for someone, but she didn't know who. Not knowing panicked her and she had begun to run, branches scraping her face as the brush got thicker. Finally, she had found herself at the edge of a river. There was a man standing in the middle of it, with his back to her. She remembered the feeling of relief. She had found him. The water moved more like tightly compacted sand. Her legs sloshed through it heavily. At last she could reach out and touch him. She put a hand on his shoulder and turned him around. He had a blocky face, square but innocently handsome. Dark hair. And he was smiling. It melted away any hesitancy in her like ice under the burning sun. But, then his face changed. It became rounder and his hair lighter, then grayer. A peppered beard grew and he looked boozed out. He was sucking a pipe like a pacifier. The expression remained the same, but looking at the morphing face was like looking into a kaleidoscope. His face thinner again, the nose looked like it had been broken, and one eye swelled up fat and juicy, like it was ready to pop like a pimple. It changed again. Zits began spraying along his cheeks, and shiny braces railroaded his smile. Again. And then the goofy countenance of her ex-husband appeared. Frasier. Looking oddly gleeful in his simpering way. Finally, there was nothing. Just a fleshy patch of nothing. His mouth had been sewn up by invisible stitches. His eye sockets stared blankly at her.

The doorbell had awakened her after that. _The doorbell!_

She looked at the clock. _1:30 A.M._

_Who could it be at this hour?_

Lilith waited a few seconds, hoping that whomever strange enough to ring a doorbell at such an inappropriate hour would give up and go home. Of course, anyone with enough nerve to ring the bell at 1:30 had purpose, for better or worse. It rang again. Petulantly, she got out from under her covers, put on her robe, and stepped out into the hall. She drowsily fumbled with the sash and yawned as she passed by Frederick's room. She was suddenly compelled to stop and look inside. The same feeling of dread from her dream engorged and puffed up in her stomach. The door was ajar. Gently, she opened it and peered inside. Not surprisingly, she saw the sleeping form of her only son. He had kicked the covers off of his body and laid bare chested in the moonlight. Why had she expected to see anything else? An eerie mood fell upon her. Somewhere between déjà vu and premonition, she was suddenly more alert and frightened, but of what she couldn't say.

The doorbell rang again. Simultaneously, a chill ran up Lilith's spin. Call it a mother's intuition, but the sounds made her want to lunge for her son and protect him from whoever or whatever waited her answering. Was it the man from her dream? _Dr. Sternin_, she told herself, _you being ridiculous_. _There is no connection. If only the preverbal old wives could see you now. Dreams are nothing but your mind firing emotions and thoughts around while you are at rest_. She put her head against the door and cracked a nervous smile. _Answer the door, and tell whomever it is to bugger off. But, give Frederick a kiss before you do it. _

The doorbell rang again.

She covered her son, gave him a peck on the cheek, and headed downstairs, but not before taking another long look at him.

_Time after time you'll find  
That I'm thinking about you  
Up on the hill I see you still  
But I just can't reach  
Who would answer your prayer?  
Who would wait by the stairs?  
Not me  
Not me_

She was peeved now. No longer afraid. The more she thought about it, the more she considered the dream in someway true, but not in a frightening way. Perhaps the person at the door _was_ Frasier. After all, they had just spent the day together, cementing Frederick's place in Marbury Academy (giving up a thanksgiving turkey to do it), and eating a much more modest delicacy with them both, and Martin and Niles, at one of the only restaurants open, where Frasier had screamed their order into a clown face with a microphone in it. It wasn't the thanksgiving she had planned, but the company had been very enjoyable: especially Frasier's. Every time she was in his presence, it stirred feelings in her she thought dead. She _hoped_ were dead. Alas, she could never resist the ol' human psychiatric PEZ dispenser. He too, felt vulnerable around his demon goddess. Yes. He had returned in the wee hours of the morning to douse himself in his white hot flame. Elation shot through her like electricity. Lilith rushed across the foyer to the door and threw it open. Darkness was all that greeted her, and the chill of a cold Boston November. Tiredness and loneliness overwhelmed her feelings of joy in a split second, nearly taking her off her feet. Wearily, she closed the door. She leaned up against it with her eyes shut tightly for what seemed like forever.

A rapid tapping penetrated her isolated thoughts. It wasn't her exacerbated heart, having been taken on a roller coaster ride. No, but it _was_ familiar. Her back door. Elation grew again. In his impatience, her horn dog had drifted to the other door. Frasier behaved so much like a drunkard when impassioned. She wouldn't be surprised if he started throwing rocks at her bedroom window if she didn't hurry and let him in.

She blasted into the kitchen, brushing away strands of hair to look presentable for her love puppet. Again, a door flew open.

_Somewhere in the night  
Inside my dreams you burn so bright_

"Frasier, you impulsive letch," she uttered coyly, "have you no fortitu—oh."

The man had auburn hair, but not only adorned to the sides of his head like the cue-balled radio shrink. It was graying, though. A gray streak above his forehead was inching its way farther back. He had a pleasant visage, if aged a tad poorly for a baby face. His nose was very pronounced and almost pointy, like a beak. And he was smiling weakly at her.

"Can I help you?" She asked, graveled and obviously annoyed.

"Uh, Hi," he said as he took a half a step closer. His hands were in his pockets. He had on dark slacks and a white, plain button up collar shirt. "I'm…sorry about the hour. I just wanted…" he faded away, clearly not prepared for the meeting.

"This is really very inappropriate," she scolded.

"I just wanted to see you. I'm not sure what else to say."

Fear came to Lilith again. "If you don't leave, I'm going to call the police." She began to close the door.

"I'm sorry," he pleaded taking another half a step. He searched for words. "I've…heard you're a good psychiatrist…and I thought…I don't know what I thought…"

"Are you all right?" Lilith stepped outside. Her feet went instantly numb on the concrete. It wasn't the first time a would-be patient visited her at home. If he needed help, her Hippocratic oath necessitated understanding and patience.

"I just…thought," he stammered, "if I saw you agai—if I saw you here, I'd be able to understand why…"

"Why what?"

_Why I love you_, he thought. "Why…I...you see…I'm…"

"Mom, who's this?" A round-faced child appeared behind his mother. He was wearing pajamas.

The stranger seemed shocked to see the young boy, and took a step back. "You…must be Frederick," he blurted.

"How do you know his name?" Anger twisted Lilith's face into a scowl.

"I…uh…"

"How?!"

"I'm sorry. This was a mistake."

Before Lilith could protest or question further, the strange visitor seemed to vanish into the night, going as quickly as he appeared.

_And I'm with you there  
And everything's all right_

Lilith slammed the door and held onto Frederick for dear life. He clung back, not understanding what was happening, only knowing that his mother was frightened. "Mom?" He asked. "Who was that man? How did he know my name?"

"I don't know…I don't know." She held him a while longer.

She considered calling the police, but as Lilith escorted her son back upstairs to his bed, the visitation faded, like a dream, step by step. As she passed back into slumber, she wasn't sure it hadn't been just a dream after all…somewhere in the night.

_Somewhere in the night  
Before the darkness turns to light  
Let me see your face  
Feel your warm embrace_

Outside, the man watched the house from a safe distance, as if soaking up as much of the experience as he could for fear of losing it in a jumble of incomplete memories. He smiled sadly, his hands still tucked firmly in his pockets.

"I should have known better," he told his counterpart.

"I know," the older man replied through clenched teeth. He took a long drag off of his cigar and held it in his free hand while he read the handlink's information.

"I met her son."

"Oh yeah?"

"Does he still die, Al?"

"You know the answer to that, Sam."

"Yeah. I barely said anything. All I did was disrupt her present. Did nothing for her future."

"It's not a _bad_ future. Thanks to you."

"I know."

Sam figured getting a chance to come to a place as himself, no alien image in the mirror, just to see someone, with no wrong to put right, would have been much more fulfilling than this. He was wrong. And he still had no idea why he was so drawn to her. Why? The only consistency in his life. Constantly asking why.

_Somewhere in the night._

Frederick didn't sleep right away. He could tell the experience had jarred his mother, and in a way, it had done the same to him, through her. He was keyed up and no longer tired. The mystery man intrigued him. Little did he know, he would, for years to come, be in awe of this night. For some reason, he was obliged to look out his window. He did, and never told anyone what he saw, though he thought of it often…until the day he died.

It was the man. Just staring at his house. Then, their eye's met. He looked sad, but seemed to be trying hard to appear at least friendly. He smiled. Frederick smiled back and waved slowly, not afraid of the strange man. Confused, but somehow comforted by his careful gaze. The man raised his hand and gave the child a thumbs up as blue light and electrical energy surrounded him. A white flash suddenly blinded Frederick's vision. When he could see again, all he saw was the sidewalk and the array of houses in his neighborhood.

"Oh boy," Frederick whispered.

_Let me love you  
Somewhere in the night_

The End.


End file.
